Ironically when it is not raining they struggle for water. Five water pumps serve a community of nearly 15,000 people.

On this day the rain was so heavy that the accompanying fog had enveloped the bay.

My phone rang. A foreign diplomat was on the line. He wanted to check some information he had received.

"Has there been a mudslide or flooding around Regent?" he asked.

I smiled wryly not in disbelief but because I was not surprised.

"It happens almost every year," I retorted. "But I hear this one is very serious," he insisted.

I promised I would find out and get back to him.

Image copyrightGetty ImagesImage caption
People in Regent were wading through streets waist-deep in muddy water

Minutes later, my phones went into overdrive: some callers wanted to confirm the "rumours", others simply to pass on information.

I spent 10 minutes calling the Office of National Security which coordinates, or should coordinate, disaster responses.

After a few tries someone answered. He confirmed that there had indeed been a mudslide and flooding, but could not give me further details as he had just received the news.

I alerted London and set off towards the scene.

Like most of Freetown, Regent is a mountainous village; the Portuguese explorers who named Sierra Leone derived its name from the mountains: Sera Lyoa - meaning "Lion Mountain".

What in the past used to be lush green vegetation has given way to massive houses belonging to the nouveau riche.

Image copyrightAFPImage caption
Mourners outside cemetery in Freetown

As I approached Regent I saw a massive red opening, part of what is a very green mountain. A huge chunk of Mount Sugar Loaf had caved in.

I was shocked at seeing the way part of the mountain had peeled away. At that moment the number of casualties was not clear.

When I arrived at the scene I could see the houses had disappeared, completely submerged by the mountain rug of red earth that had descended.

Residents, believed to number between 600 and 1,000, lay buried beneath the mudslide.

This is when the magnitude of the disaster dawned on me.

The calls kept coming. Now people were telling me about the flash floods that had been partly caused by the collapse of the mountain.

Huge boulders had created a massive channel that had widened the waterway, sweeping away homes in its path. It was ferocious.

Seven hours after the mudslide, there was no significant response on sight.

Young men in the neighbourhood were busy digging with their bare hands, desperately hoping to find people alive. But given the sheer weight of the mud their attempts appeared futile.

Ambulances left by the Ebola response teams of two years ago arrived a few hours later. But that was all there was.

The heavy-lifting machinery and equipment needed were nowhere to be seen. Just like in 2013 when the colonial-era King Jimmy Bridge caved in and killed many, construction companies had to be called upon to provide excavators.

Image copyrightReutersImage caption
Heavy machines initially nowhere to be seen

Man-made tragedy

On Monday night, President Ernest Bai Koroma addressed the nation. He sounded emotional, clearly touched by the events.

But could this have been avoided? Many have referred to this disaster as man-made.

Most of Freetown's forest cover, which used to capture the rainfall, has been tampered with. The construction of houses is poorly regulated, and town planning is virtually non-existent.

They system of buying land is chaotic and often fraudulent.

This was clearly a disaster waiting to happen, which is why many were surprised that no-one has been held accountable.

If you hurt the environment, the environment will definitely fight back. It is that simple.